To Get Through To Him
by mynameisicy
Summary: After unnecessarily risking their family, Sam is punished in an unconventional way. Warning: Story contains corporal punishment (spanking)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: An incredible thank you to just-another-busy-fangirl for beta-ing! I was so desperate to get this story posted and she just whipped through it and she is literally amazing.

I hope y'all enjoy. The story is complete, but I felt like posting it in smaller, bite-sized bits. :)

Please review and let me know what worked, what didn't work, and how I can improve.

Thanks!

* * *

Dean had just gotten back to the motel, but he could sense the tension from a mile away. The walk home from school had been long – longer, it seemed, than usual. "Sammy?" Dean called loudly as he entered open room. "Sammy, you in here?" He tossed his book bag on to the bed that he and Sammy shared.

John growled lowly from the sofa. "Sam is in the bathroom." He shut the book he was reading, then looked over to his oldest. The boy was seventeen, but large for his age. Of course, that may have been in part due to the rigorous training regimen that he had the two boys on. His youngest was never particularly enthusiastic about training. While Dean damn near jumped at the opportunity for physical exercise, Sam would bitch and moan without fail.

"Sam is in the bathroom," John repeated, a bit quieter this time, and he continued, "Your brother fucked up royally today and I told him to stay there. Not sure I would control myself if I saw him right now."

Dean walked toward the closed bathroom door and sighed. He could hear very quiet crying, which made Dean upset. His brother must have been really worked up over getting his ass whooped. Sammy sure as shit knew how to piss off their dad, Dean thought. The two of them butted heads all the damn time, and it drove Dean insane. Sammy never listened to their dad. It seemed like Sammy loved nothing more than getting his ass handed to him, so Dean wasn't sure why he was quite so up in arms today.

"So what did he do this time?" Asked Dean with a small chuckle. There was rarely a day that went by without Sammy doing something idiotic. Usually, it was small. Maybe he would stay too late at the library and miss training, or he would 'forget' to clean the weapons. Some times, it was more serious. A few months back, Dean remembered walking in on Dad wailing on Sammy for swearing at the clerk in the supermarket. Sammy deserved it, though... He always did.

Again, John gave a low growl. "He decided to go and tell his teachers that he lives with his brother, alone, in a fucking motel room." He paused and let out a heavy sigh through his nose. "Child Protective Services was here for about two hours. Thank God I got home last night. If I hadn't, you and Sam..." He paused once more, but this time he rested his head in his hands. "Dean, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you boys."

Dean sighed. He knew the severity of what his brother had done. Fuck, even he wanted to beat the shit out of his younger brother. "Dad, look, I know he... I know we're not... Dad, he's just a stupid kid."

John interrupted, shaking his head, "No, Dean, this is way more than being just a stupid kid. I mean, stupid he fucking _is_ , but this is more than that. Your brother damn near got both of you boys taken away." John stood up, then, with a clear determination in his eyes. He unthreaded his belt from its loops, making a rasping sound which caused Dean to cringe.

"Dad, come on. Don't whip the kid. You've never given him the belt before! Just..." He stepped in front of his father, who was already making his way to the bathroom. "He's prob'ly just looking for attention."

"He's about to get some more of it, then, isn't he." The words were spoken without emotion.

"More of it?" Dean cocked his head, unsure of what his father was implying.

John motioned to the bed where Dean had carelessly thrown his backpack. He watched as his son glanced over and the horrified look spread across the boy's face. The paddle already lay on the bed.

The realization spread over Dean's face. His brother wasn't crying because he was scared of getting whooped. He was crying because the thought of taking another beating on top of the one he'd already had was too much for the kid. "Dad, you can't beat him twice."

"I'm not going to beat your brother, Dean. Have I ever beaten either one of you boys?"

Dean wasn't sure how to answer that. It sure as shit felt like a beating when he was getting his ass handed to him. Still, he knew their father was never unfair. He always had a damn good reason when he whooped a boy's backside. "No, sir, but -" Dean was cut off quickly by his father's sharp tongue.

"No 'buts', Dean, except for Samuel's over the bed in ten." He said this a bit louder, so that his youngest would hear him.

Sam heard his dad and cried louder. He had been in the bathroom for what seemed like forever. Dad had already told him that he would be getting a second ass whooping, but he didn't know when it would be. Now, knowing, he was terrified. There was no way his ass could handle it. He turned around and pulled his shorts down just enough that he could see his bright red backside in the mirror. And bright red, it most certainly was. He had a small bit of bruising, but nothing too bad. No bleeding, and not even a welt. He knew that Dad could have gone a lot harder on him, but he chose not to so that he could wear Sam out a second time. He felt the guilt tearing at his heart. He knew that he deserved to have his ass beaten. Dad was never real big on whooping, but he sure as shit did it when it was deserved. And Sam knew that it was deserved.

"Dad, please... Can't you let him off this one time?" Dean begged, feeling his heart constrict.

"'This one time'?" John repeated incredulously. "I have let him off way more than I should. Sam needs to be taken down a notch, and that is fucking exactly what I intend to do. If nothing else I've done is going to get through to him, I am going to make damn sure that this does."

"If you want to get through to him, then you need whip me." Dean didn't think before he spoke. The words were instant and unwavering. There was no way that Dean could handle Sammy being spanked again. He knew his baby brother was hurting, and he would do anything to keep more pain from coming to the kid.

John laughed heartily for a moment, appreciating the bit of levity that Dean always managed to bring to situations. He was a bit surprised when Dean didn't chuckle along with him. When he looked at Dean's face, though, he saw no levity in the boy's face. "Well, shit. You're fucking serious, aren't you?" All the lightheartedness that John had felt for that moment fled in an instant.

"As a heart attack, Dad." He inhaled deeply and hoped that his father would agree. He couldn't stand the thought of his baby brother getting his ass whooped twice in one day.

John looked at Dean, scrutinizing the boy. What kind of angle was his son playing? John Winchester may have been an asshole at times, but he wasn't one for playing mind games. He always had a damn good reason for whooping his boys. The idea of whooping his oldest – who, for once, had done nothing wrong – in order to deter his youngest from misbehavior was insane. "Dean, why the hell would you suggest something like that?" The tone in John's voice was unlike him. Proud, all knowing John Winchester was reduced to a mess of confusion in that moment.

"Because I know that if you gave Sammy a whoopin' for something I did wrong, I sure as shit wouldn't do it again. Hell, I'd be a fucking altar boy after that." He paused, closing his eyes for a moment. Dean could not imagine the shit he'd feel like if his baby brother – his Sammy – got his ass whipped because of him. Dean couldn't even stand the thought. He knew there would be no greater deterrent for Sammy from further disobedience.

"You're right, Dean," John stopped the boy from getting lost in his inner thoughts by putting a firm hand on his shoulder. He dropped his belt at his side and slowly, gently reached out and took Dean's coat. "I am not going to lose you boys." He had clearly seen the change in Dean's behavior and he agreed. Beating Dean's behind would be the best way to get through to Sam.

For his part, Dean didn't protest when Dad took his coat. He didn't protest as Dad silently led him over to the bed that the boys shared. He was surprised when he felt Dad's hand on his shoulder again, and he heard the belt hit the bed with a clinking sound. Dean turned to look at his father, who embraced him tightly.

John had one strong hand on the back of Dean's neck and the other began to card through the boy's hair as he crushed the boy to his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to Dean's forehead, but kept the embrace tight. "I am so proud of you, son," he whispered.

Dean reveled in the praise and the touch. Dad had never been a real 'touchy-feely' kind of guy. Even when they were kids, Dad had never been a real hugger. Dean knew that was always pretty hard on Sammy. His brother never got a whole lot of hugs as a kid. Dean was always the one to rock Sammy to sleep when he was a baby. Dean was always the one to comfort the boy when he'd had a nightmare or a boo-boo or damn near anything. Sammy was one fussy little kid.

"Thanks, Dad." Dean's voice was soft. Even at seventeen years old, Dean wished he could stay in his father's arms forever. It was a comfort that he wasn't often given. He gave a smirk as he pushed away, worried that his dad might think he was being childish for remaining in the hug. "Enough with the chick flick stuff, huh?" He chuckled mirthlessly before bringing the conversation back to the present. "So, uh... how we gonna do this, Dad? I bend over and you, uh, hit your thigh or something to make it sound all big and scary?"

"No way, Dean-o." John gave a small, apologetic smile. "You didn't do anything wrong, so if you want to call this off, you call it off now. But once we start, we're not stopping. I'm not going to go easy on you. This will be the same whipping I intended to give to your brother. The kid has to learn the consequences of his actions, even if he doesn't physically feel them."

Again, Dean closed his eyes and sighed. This was going to fucking suck. But after a moment of self-pity, a determined, toothy grin spread across Dean's face as he spoke, "Bring it on, Dad." He held his arms open in a grand gesture of submission.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Bring it on, Dad." He held his arms open in a grand gesture of submission._

"Samuel, please come out here," John bellowed.

The bathroom door creaked loudly and Sam slowly walked over to Dad. His voice was a whisper when he addressed the man, "Yes, sir." He noticed Dean standing beside their father, but he didn't acknowledge his brother. He didn't want Dean there to watch as he got his ass handed to him for the second time that day. He didn't want his brother to see the few bruises that were left on his ass from the paddling he'd just received. He sure as hell didn't want his brother to see the inevitable breakdown that he would have. Despite his attempts, Sam was never able to keep quiet while he was getting his hide tanned. Dean, of course, knew this – and Sam knew that he knew. For whatever reason, though, Sam preferred to pretend that was not the case. "Dad, does Dean have to be here?" He couldn't keep his voice from breaking.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, Samuel, he does." John gave his son a no-nonsense look, squared his shoulders and picked the belt up off the bed. "Dean, drop your pants and shorts, and lay down on the bed. I want two pillows underneath your hips. Make sure you're, uh..." John awkwardly fished for the words, but when he was unable to find the 'politically correct' ones, he settled. "Make sure your balls are covered. I'm not dealing with the guilt of causing you that kind of pain today." He gave a light laugh, thinking he might make the situation lighter for his scape-goating son. He didn't think, before he said it, that the merciful suggestion would actually upset Dean more. He sighed, realizing that he hadn't chosen the best line of comfort. "While you position yourself, I'm going to talk with your brother."

As Dean began to obey their father, stacking two pillows before moving to unfasten his jeans, Sam stared in shock. The shock only lasted for a brief moment, though, before Sam began to vocalize his displeasure. "What the fuck are you doing? Dean, stop!"

John lifted a hand to stop his youngest. "First off, Sam, I'd better not hear another cuss word out of your mouth today. I can certainly add some extra licks with the paddle, if you'd like. I don't think Dean would appreciate that too much, would you, Dean?"

"Sammy, it'd be real great if you keep your mouth shut, okay?" Dean tried not to let his fear show through, but the thought of taking licks with the paddle after their dad finished whipping him with the belt was distressing. He shot Sammy a look, giving his younger brother a winning (yet sarcastic) smile. He knew how upsetting this was going to be for Sammy – for all of them, really – but he wanted to assure him that it would all be okay, somehow.

"Dad, please, I'm sorry for telling Ms. Jakobsen, but I didn't mean for anything to happen, honest! I just... I wasn't thinking. She was so nice and she was just asking me questions and... Dad, please, I just didn't think." Sam could feel the tears prickling in his eyes. He gripped his hands around the hem of his red flannel shirt. "Dean didn't do anything wrong, Dad. It was all me. I'm sorry." His voice was soft and broken.

By this time, Dean had already stripped out of his jeans and underwear, put his clothes in a small pile beside the bed, and laid down over the pillows, resting his head on his forearms. He was silent, trying to regulate his breathing and calm himself before the whipping began. He had no desire to listen to the conversation between Sam and their dad. Dean, at this point, saw himself a prop – a tool. He was the right tool for this job.

"Sam, I know your brother didn't do anything wrong. This is to make damn sure that nobody jeopardizes our family again. Dean offered to take your punishment."

He yelled out angrily, "Well, I don't want him to take it!" The tears spilled over now, and Sam wiped the his face on his sleeve. "Please, Dad, you can't..." How could Dad even think about doing this? Dean didn't break the rules! Dean wasn't the one... Sam was, and he knew that. He looked over at his brother, who was bent over the bed, naked from the waist down with his ass high in the air. Sam averted his eyes quickly, wanting to give his brother modesty if he could. He couldn't stand seeing his brother – his proud, 'nothing-can-hurt-me', big brother – in such a vulnerable position. It was embarrassing, for both of them.

"Sorry, Sam, but you don't get a choice here. Think about this: if I hadn't come home last night, what would have happened when the people from CPS came today?" There was no malice in John's voice. He wanted to make sure that Sam understood.

"I-I don't know." This was a lie, of course. Sam and Dean were both perfectly aware of the dangers of CPS for their family. There was a myriad of things that could have happened if CPS came when his dad wasn't there, and Sam had thought of every single one.

John knew it was a lie and his youngest was evading. He was determined to make a point with this one. Dean had given himself as the scapegoat. If it had been Sam lying over the bed, John would have done the same thing. In a swift motion, John picked up the paddle and brought it down sharply on Dean's bared backside.

This was unexpected for Dean and he bucked into the pillow, barely stifling a cry in his arm. It might not have been so bad if he'd been expecting it. "Geez, Dad," he panted. "Give a guy some warning next time?"

"Sorry, Dean-o. No can do. You offered to take your brother's punishment. And that means his _whole_ punishment." John swore that if this whole thing panned out, he would give Dean the world. Every present he'd asked for as a kid for his birthday, every car he could find... Hell, he'd buy Dean a puppy if he wanted one.

Dean nodded in agreement. Dad was right. He had offered, and he had meant it. "Yes, sir." He buried his head once more in his arms and prepared himself for another blow. He had no clue what exactly his father had planned, but he knew that it was all for Sammy. He just had to remember that.

When their father raised the paddle, Sam yelled out. "Stop it! Please! Dean didn't do anything!" Still, the protest did not stop his father. He heard the paddle crack down and he cringed. The tears were flowing from Sam's eyes now. He didn't know how to make Dad stop. He hated that his brother was being hurt for something that he did. It wasn't fair!

"Sam, listen to me." John set the paddle down next to Dean and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I understand that you don't like this, Sammy. That's the point. Dean agreed to take your punishment in your stead, and I agreed to let him. There are a few rules you will follow during your punishment... You with me so far?"

"Yes, sir." His voice was soft. It was all he could muster.

"Good boy." John praised, squeezing the boy's shoulder. "First rule is that any swearing or cursing will add to your punishment. This rule does not apply to Dean. Dean, buddy, you get a free pass with this one." He reached over and gently patted Dean's lower back.

For a split second, Dean shied away from the touch, but he soon relaxed into it. It was a comfort, even if the words were not.

"Sammy, any foul word that comes out of your mouth will add five licks with the paddle at the end of your punishment. I feel like this may not be necessary to say, but I want to make damn sure there are no qualms about this one. Any extra punishment that you may rack up here will be given to your brother. Second rule is that you will remain silent unless asked a question. Now, I don't mean you can't cry. I can't ask you not to cry. I get that this is tough on you. It's tough on me, too. But if you protest or try to interfere, Dean will get five extra. If you look away, cover your eyes, or anything like that, Dean will get another five. And if you are asked a question, for the love of God, Sam, answer me. 'I don't know' is not an answer. If you lie to me or refuse to answer, there's five extra. " He paused, giving Sam a hard look. "Do you understand?"

Sam nodded wordlessly. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He felt like there were rocks in his lungs. All of this was happening because of him.

It seemed as though John sensed this. He didn't force Sam to speak. He knew it was all the boy could do to nod at the moment. "All right, now that we have the rules out of the way, back to the question. What would have happened had I not come home last night, Samuel?"

With a deep, steadying breath, Sam spoke, "Dean and I would have been taken away. They-they would have taken us away and maybe even separated us. And you would have gone to jail." He looked down at the ground, not even bothering to try and stop the tears. "I'm so sorry, Dad."

John reached out and gently tilted Sam's chin up, forcing the boy to look at him. "Sammy, I can't live without you boys. I wouldn't be able to protect you if they took you away." As he spoke, John wanted nothing more than to embrace his youngest. He wanted to tell Sam that it would all be okay, and that he would never leave again. Never again would he leave the boys alone while he went out on a hunt. But he knew that would be a lie. Instead of giving comfort, John steeled himself for what he needed to do. He squared his shoulders and looked at his youngest once more. "All right, Sam, I want you to stand up by the head of the bed." He waved his hand over and Sam obeyed, which made John proud.

"Dad?" Sam's voice was quiet. He was scared, worried that his dad may add to the punishment if he thought Sam was breaking one of the rules. Technically, he was breaking the rule, and he knew that. But he needed to speak up.

John was reaching down to pick up the belt when Sam's voice stopped him. "Yes, Sam?"

"I know... I know you didn't ask me a question, but..." He stumbled over the words, unsure of how to say what he wanted to.

"Come on, Sam, spit it out. And look at my eyes when you're talking to me." His voice was gruff, but not unkind.

Sam snapped his eyes up to meet his father's. "Dad, please don't add any more licks..." His voice shook as he spoke. "But can I hold Dean's hand? Please? This is all my fault and it's so unfair to him... Please let me do something to help him."

John mulled over the question for a moment. The boy broke a rule, which should earn added punishment, but the heart behind the request was clearly in a good place. He couldn't deny that. "I'm not going to add any extra licks for that, Sam. And that is very good of you to offer to comfort your brother. It's okay with me, but ask Dean and make sure that's what he wants."

For his part, Dean had no desire to have Sammy hold his hand during the punishment. He wasn't a little bitch and he didn't need anybody to hold his fucking hand like he was a five year old. He refrained from saying that, however, and when his brother nervously repeated the request, Dean smiled. He held his left hand out, but kept the right one tucked underneath his chest. He wanted to make sure that he'd be able to somehow stifle his reactions once the whipping started.

Sam took Dean's left hand in both of his, squeezing softly. "'m sorry, Dean." He met Dean's eyes, wanting to make sure that his brother knew how much this meant.

"No sweat, Samantha." He smirked, unable to resist teasing his brother for a moment, "You know I can't stand seeing my poor little baby bro get his ass whooped. Besides, I've had the belt before. You haven't."


	3. Chapter 3

_"No sweat, Samantha." He smirked, unable to resist teasing his brother for a moment, "You know I can't stand seeing my poor little baby bro get his ass whooped. Besides, I've had the belt before. You haven't."_

When he heard that, John swallowed hard. He hadn't ever belted Sam before. Sam wouldn't understand how deeply the belt burned if he'd never felt it before. He wouldn't understand the pain that Dean was going through. "Samuel, with me." He snatched the belt quickly and strode over to the couch.

While Sam didn't understand, he didn't protest,. On the other hand, Dean whipped his head around, pushing his torso off the bed. "Dad, what the hell? You said that I could take his punishment."

"And you will, Dean. This isn't punishment. I'm going to give Sammy ten licks with the belt so he knows how it feels." John propped one foot up on the couch and tugged Sam's wrist. "Over my knee, Sammy." He didn't bother to ask Sam to take down his pants and shorts. The boy was already wearing sweatpants, so it was easy for him to bare the boy when he needed to. John wrapped the belt tightly around his hand while Sam positioned himself over his knee. Once the belt was ready and Sam was positioned, John wasted no time in baring the boy. He took the sweats and underwear just above Sam's knees. He gave a quick glance to ensure that he hadn't done any damage to the boy, which he hadn't, and he quickly snapped the belt down on Sam's behind.

Dean heard the belt meet his brother's ass and he cringed. He wanted to save his brother from the pain, but he knew why their dad felt the need to give him a taste of the leather. He knew that the ten strokes Sammy was about to get would be nothing compared to what he was going to get.

The belt came down and Sam felt like a razor blade sliced a stripe across the entirety of his ass. He was unable to contain the cry that escaped his throat. Lash after lash was laid down on Sam's ass, each lower than the last. He yelped and squirmed, trying desperately to get away. One particular lash caught his lower thigh, causing Sam to lay limp over his dad's knee. The tears flowed freely from his eyes and he tried, unsuccessfully, to sniff back the mucus. He was sobbing brokenly and without shame.

"Two more, Sammy," promised John. He laid down the final two lashes, right on the undercurve of Sam's backside. He dropped the belt before righting Sam's clothes and plucking the boy up off his knee. Ordinarily, he would have given his son comfort. But he hadn't intended those ten lashes to be punishment. They were an example.

Sam stood there, trying to calm himself enough to speak. He was thankful that Dad was affording him that liberty, even if he wouldn't give him a hug. Dad was always really good about comforting his boys after an ass whooping, but Sam knew Dad was proving a point. "D-Dad," he choked out shakily, "Please d-please don't do that to D-to Dean. Please."

John didn't respond to the request. He merely spoke out another order. "Samuel, go stand at the head of the bed next to Dean."

With a whimper, Sam moved over to the head of the bed and took Dean's hand once more. The tears were still spilling over Sam's eyes. "Dean, I am so, so sorry."

Once more, Dean offered Sam a comforting smile. This time, however, he didn't say anything. He remained quiet, keeping eye contact with his brother for a long moment before he ducked his head again and closed his eyes. Sammy didn't need to see Dean crying.

While the boys had their moment, John collected the belt from the floor and very slowly walked back to the bed. Once the boys had finished, John spoke again. "Brace yourself, Dean." He laid a gentle hand on Dean's lower back. He needed to establish the physical connection to remind Dean that he was there. Of course, Dean wouldn't forget John's presence. How could he? It would be John who was causing his pain in just a brief moment.

There were no more words. The next sound was that of the belt whistling through the air and connecting with Dean's ass.

When he felt the belt stripe him, Dean jerked, but remained silent. He squeezed Sammy's hand tight, trying to focus on why he had gotten himself into this. He and Dad needed to make damn sure that Sammy never did anything that stupid again.

Sam cried out along with Dean. Every time Dean squeezed his hand, Sam could feel his heart break further. He needed the physical contact just as much, if not more, than Dean did at this point. "'m sorry, Dean." He whispered it each time the belt connected with Dean's backside.

After seven lashes, John paused. He snapped his fingers to get Sam's attention. "Sammy, he knows you're sorry. Remember the rules, bud." The warning was gentle.

Again, Sam cried out. "I'm sorry, please, Dad, don't... I didn't mean to speak, I'm sorry!" His breath hitched and became shallow. He put one hand between Dean's shoulders, trying to calm himself. This was too much for him. He was the cause of Dean's pain. He almost got them both taken away! They might have never seen their dad or each other again. "I'm so sorry, Dad."

John could see the distress that Sam was in. He reached out to Sam with the hand that had been on Dean's lower back. He noticed that Dean tried to keep the connection by lifting his body slightly. He knew it would upset Dean to have that connection removed, but he needed to make the connection with Sam at that moment. He heard the whimper from his eldest son, but he remained focused on Sam. "I'm not going to add extra for that, okay? But Sammy," He made sure that Sam was paying attention. He met the boy's eyes before continuing, "Mind your tongue... Your tongue is what got all of us in this situation in the first place." He paused and gestured to Dean, who was laying limp over the pillows and breathing heavy. "This whole thing is to remind you to mind your tongue."

Sam swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, sir." Dad was right. This was all because of his inability to keep his damn mouth shut. He closed his eyes for just a moment before he refocused. If Dean was brave enough to take the whipping for him, Sam would be brave too. Sam would make Dean proud. He squeezed Dean's hand tightly and smiled at him through the tears.

Seeing Sam smile made John feel more at ease. He knew that Dean was able to adapt to anything, but Sam was more fragile. Sam struggled constantly with his emotions. He needed more support than Dean did. Maybe it had to do with growing up without a mother, John thought. At least Dean had a few years with Mary.

With the knowledge that both of his boys would be able to cope, John raised the belt again. Methodically, John laid strokes of the belt down. He kept a consistent pattern, working his way from the top of Dean's backside all the way down to just above the backs of Dean's knees.

John was timing himself, watching for signs of distress in either of his boys. John knew his boys and he knew what each boy needed when they were being punished. This case, he knew, was different. He knew that Dean needed to cry in order for this message to hit home for Sammy. Ordinarily, if he was punishing Dean, he would lay in to the boy until he heard sniffles. Dean was a tough nut to crack, but he knew it would be over once Dean gave in to his punishment. He knew that just a few sniffles wouldn't be enough for Sam. He knew that Sam needed to see his older brother broken.

After five minutes and countless strokes , Dean still refused to break. He wasn't giving in at all. Damn stubborn Winchester pride. "Samuel," John said, looking at his youngest again, "Go get me a washcloth and a small bowl of cold water."

Sam remained silent during the punishment. No more tears came. Sam thought he'd cried every tear he could. But his brother was so strong, and Sam wanted to be just as strong. He didn't even flinch when Dean squeezed his hand too hard. He knew Dean was in more pain from the whipping than he was. Most of what Sam felt was inside. Sure, his butt still burned from the paddling he'd received and those few licks of the belt... but it was Sam's head that was punishing him the most.

When John spoke, Sam's head snapped up. He'd been so focused on Dean that he almost forgot John's presence. He heard the order and hustled to obey.

Dean was thankful when Sammy followed their dad's orders. It was never a good idea to disobey a direct order from their dad. The moment that Sam stepped away also allowed for Dean to recollect himself. He wanted to speak with Dad, but he didn't trust his voice not to break. He remained silent and focused on breathing.

John was determined to end this. "Dean," He began softly, gently placing a hand on the back of Dean's neck, "We're going to get your shirt off real quick, okay?" He quickly assessed the boy, and he could see that Dean's backside and thighs were beginning to welt. There was a small spot, right at the undercurve, that was bleeding. John felt himself tearing up. He felt so much guilt. He had caused his boy to bleed. Fathers were supposed to make pain go away... not cause it.

When Dad said that he was going to take off Dean's shirt, Dean didn't protest. He was in so much pain that he barely heard his father at all. He nodded, almost imperceptibly. He remained perfectly still as Dad slipped the light grey tee shirt off, over his head, and he heard it hit the pile of clothes that was already formed on the floor.

Sam was thankful for the reprieve. He stepped into the bathroom, searching for a washcloth. There was a stack of them on top of the shelf next to the shower, but Sam didn't notice. He was too distracted by his thoughts. If he hadn't spoken to his teacher, none of this would have happened. He didn't know what he would have done if they were taken away from their father. And what if he and Dean were separated? There was no one that Sam loved more than Dean. Dean kept him safe and Dean loved him. But if they weren't together, Dean couldn't protect him from a mean foster family. Dean couldn't protect him from the monsters. The thoughts renewed Sam's tears.

After a few minutes, Sam had found a washcloth and carefully carried the bowl of water in to John.

With a deep breath in, John took the cloth from Sam, but quietly asked his youngest to hold the bowl. He could see the curiosity and fear in Sam's eyes. It was clear that Sam had no clue what was happening.

Sam stood, watching as Dad dunked the washcloth in the bowl. He wrung it out before he again wrapped the belt around one hand. With his free hand, John took the cloth and meticulously coated the belt with the cold water. He repeated the process three times, making sure that the belt was thoroughly soaked. When he was satisfied, he dipped the cloth in the water once more. This time, he did not wring the cloth yet. He held it over Dean's upper back and squeezed.

The cold water caused Dean to yelp. "Oh, fuck!" He had managed to keep quiet until that moment. The shock of the water was startling. "Dad, what are you doing?"

As Dean spoke, John could hear the fear in the boy's voice. Genuine fear. It made John's heart constrict. He had never heard such fear in Dean's voice. Dean was the bravest kid that John could think of. He'd met other hunters' kids before, but none of them could hold a candle to his boy. "Dean, do you trust me?" He stilled his hand, but still held the cloth over Dean's back.

"Y-yes, sir," he replied with a shaky voice. Of course he trusted his father. He respected the man more than anyone else.

"How about you, Sam? Do you trust me?"

"Yes, sir. Of course." Sam didn't need to think about the answer. Dad had never let anything happen to their family. Dad, in Sam's eyes, was a hero. No matter how much Sam and Dad disagreed, Sam still loved and trusted the man. The only person that Sam trusted more in the whole world was Dean.

"Good." With that, John continued. He gently rubbed the white cloth over his son's shoulders, taking a long moment to provide a bit of physical contact with the boy. He saw that Dean's shoulders glistened, now, and he was satisfied with that. He dropped the washcloth in the bowl that Sam held, before he returned to the task at hand.

The cold water felt surprisingly good on his back. It felt really nice when Dad was rubbing him with the washcloth. Dean relaxed, thinking that it was over and that Dad was taking care of him now.

John didn't hesitate to finish the ordeal. He raised the moistened belt and whipped it down on Dean's shoulders.

Dean did not expect the belt to land again. And he really didn't expect it to land where it did, which caused him to produce a noise that he would have been mortified to know came from his mouth. His body tensed and he bucked up. "Dad, please!" He yelped, trying to push himself up off the bed. The first lick on his shoulders caused the tears to escape. The pain was too great, even for Dean. He turned to look over his shoulder, making eye contact with Dad and silently pleading with him.

John could hear his own voice breaking as he spoke, "You're doing so good, Dean-o." He firmly pushed down on Dean's left shoulder, making the boy lay face down on the bed again. Once more, he cracked the belt down on Dean's upper back. He knew that the water on his back and the belt would intensify the string tenfold. He wanted to get this done quickly, and he knew that the water would help hasten the process.

Indeed, John was proved correct. After three stokes of the belt on his shoulders, Dean sobbed, openly and brokenly. He reached out for Sammy, who had been unable to hold his hand since he was holding the bowl.

When Sam felt Dean reach for him, he carelessly dropped the bowl and knelt beside his brother, shushing him quietly. He rubbed his thumb gently on Dean's hand, trying to comfort his brother however he could. "Dean, it's okay. You're okay. I'm sorry, Dean." Sam's voice was so soft, he didn't think anybody could hear him. That was fine.

Two more strokes came down on Dean's shoulders and finally, John stopped. He dropped the belt on the bed before he moved over to the head of the bed – opposite Sam. "Dean, buddy, you did so good. I'm so proud of you, pal." John squeezed Dean's bicep tightly and ran a hand through Dean's hair, showing his approval. He stood there silently for a moment, assessing both of his sons.

John observed Dean as he laid limp on the bed, unashamed. He still cried loudly, though after about a few minutes, he was focused enough to try and calm his hysterics. Even after Dad stopped, Dean still felt the burn of the belt on his shoulders. He didn't attempt to speak or move. He was in too much pain.

Sam continued to make quiet, gentle noises to comfort his brother. John noticed this and felt his heart swell with pride. Sam was not crying at this point, because he knew Dean needed him to be strong. "Dean, I'm so sorry." He squeezed Dean's hand, letting him know that he was there. Dean had done all of this for him, so Sam knew that he needed to somehow repay his brother.

Thinking that Sam was doing a fine job at comforting his older brother, John pulled away and headed toward the small kitchen area.

The movement met by a pathetic noise of protest from Dean, who turned his head again to look at his father. "Please don't leave me, Dad," Dean's voice cracked as he begged.

"I was just going to get some salve, Dean. But it can wait." He knelt beside Dean and stroked his hair again.

The scene was distressing.

Sam was on Dean's left, holding his brother's hand and stroking his arm gently. He gently shushed his brother, quietly telling Dean how sorry he was, how thankful he was, and how much he loved him.

John was on Dean's right, holding a strong hand on Dean's neck and rubbing gently while carding his other hand through Dean's hair. His voice was soft while he spoke kind words to his oldest boy. "You did so good. I'm so proud of you, Dean-o. You're such a good boy."

Dean laid naked on the bed and his body was limp. He made small mewling noises of discomfort. He was broken. But that was the point, and Dean knew that now.

It must have been another ten minutes before Dean spoke. He looked to Sammy and he could see the hurt in his baby brother's eyes. "Sammy," Dean said, voice still shaking, "Don't ever make me do this again, okay?"

Fervently, Sam nodded, and tears spilled anew. "I promise, Dean. Never again. I am so sorry that I almost got us taken away. I'm so sorry that you had to do this. Please don't hate me, Dean."

Dean gave a hearty chuckle and smiled. How silly his little brother was sometimes. But he knew he was just a sensitive kid. "I would never hate you, Sammy. I love you. You're my brother."

"I love you, too, Dean." The smile from Sam was less easy. Sam's emotions were still raging inside of him. He didn't know if he was sad or mad. He didn't know how to feel. All he knew was that he was sorry and he wanted to take the pain away from Dean.

John watched his boys with a proud smile. "Dean, you okay now?"

"Yes, sir." He turned to look at his father, then, and he smiled again. "Thank you." The words were deeper than just a 'thank you for asking'. The words were so much more than that. He was thanking his father for allowing this to happen. He knew that his father understood how crucial this was for Sammy. Dean knew his little brother better than he knew himself. He knew that Sammy would never fuck up like that again. He knew that the pain was worth it to keep their family together.

"You want me to go get the salve now, buddy?" John asked, squeezing Dean's neck once more.

"Please." Dean agreed wholly, breathily. "And maybe a sheet?" He gave an awkward look to his father, remembering that he was way more exposed than he would ever like to be. Unless he was with a hot chick, he figured. Then he would be fine with it.

John smiled sympathetically, "You bet, bud." He stepped away, going to the first aid kit in the kitchen and grabbing the salve. "Sammy!" He bellowed, "Heads up!" He tossed the salve to his youngest, who fumbled to catch it. Poor kid was not very coordinated.

When he caught it, Sam looked unsure. "Dean, do you..." He wasn't sure if his brother would be okay with him putting the salve on.

"Just do it, Sam." Dean whimpered. Yes, it was embarrassing. But he didn't care. Anything to take away the searing pain.

Sam unscrewed the top of the bottle and poured some onto Dean's back. He pulled back instantly as his brother cried out again. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you!"

With a heavy breath, Dean curled his hands in to fists and tensed his body. "It's not you, Sammy. It's the stuff. It fucking burns. Keep going. Please."

Sam was unsure when Dean asked him to continue, but he did it. If that's what his brother wanted, then he would oblige. He carefully spread the salve over his brother's wounds. The sounds that Dean made were painful for Sam to hear. "It's almost done, Dean. Just one more second." He quickly finished spreading the salve over his brother's shoulders.

"Dude," Dean buried his face in the pillow and continued, "I got the belt a lot lower than that, too."

Sam blushed awkwardly, "Sorry, I... um... I wasn't sure if you wanted -"

Dean cut him off, but he wasn't being mean. "Yes, Sammy, I want. It fucking hurts, man."

The guilt was impossible to bear. The harsh words caused Sam to sob again. He was shaking as he poured out some more of the salve and began to work it into Dean's lower wounds.

He instantly felt guilt when he heard Sam crying. "Sammy, don't cry. I didn't mean to snap. It's not that bad. I'm sorry." His voice was soft. He felt an overwhelming cloud of irony. He had just taken a hiding so that his brother didn't have to, and now he was apologizing. It seemed so backwards.

It was then that John walked back over, holding a small sheet. "Sam, why don't I take over. You're spent. Go lay down on my bed, okay?"

Sam wanted to protest – he didn't want to leave his brother. But he knew that protesting was a bad idea. He stood taller, handed his father the salve, and headed for the other bed. He was surprised when Dean spoke up, stopping him.

"No, Sammy, stay. Lay here with me. Please. Dad can finish patching me up. But please don't leave." He knew that his brother was too upset to be without him. For his part, Dean would have been fine being alone to wallow in his misery. But he knew that Sammy needed him. And, really, he needed Sammy too.

With a great smile of appreciation, Sam crawled on to the bed and laid down next to his brother. He sighed with content when Dean wrapped a protective arm around him. It would be okay. They would all be okay.

At this point, none of them cared that Dean was naked, not even Dean himself. The moment was intimate.

John watched as his youngest curled up next to his oldest. Damn, he was so proud of his boys. Both of them. Sure, they were both stupid sometimes. But they would do anything to protect each other. And John would do anything to protect them.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed my story. Please review and let me know what you liked or didn't like, and what I can improve on next time.

Again, a huge thank you to just-another-busy-fangirl for being an absolutely magical beta!


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